


Whatever Lola Wants

by zvi



Category: Grey's Anatomy
Genre: Angst, Character of Color, I Saw Three Ships, Other, Threesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-01-06
Updated: 2009-01-06
Packaged: 2017-10-02 04:39:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zvi/pseuds/zvi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Erica might have been able to leave before Callie got there, but Erica can't walk away from Callie, can not do it. Doesn't really want to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Whatever Lola Wants

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Netgirl_y2k](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Netgirl_y2k/gifts).



> Requested story element: The Sloan Method.
> 
> I had a lot of difficulty with this request, actually, because by the time I sat down to write this story, Hahn was off the show. Before that, Callie had had Mark teach her how to do something sexual with women, and the whole relationship felt very off to me. I was disenchanted with the whole series and had stopped watching the show sometime in October.

## Now

Erica refused to leave the hospital with Mark, and Callie, for some complicated reason involving residents, had to leave the hospital late. So Erica sits in the hotel bar, drinking her third shot of the most expensive Scotch they had (that was exactly how she ordered it, too, "most expensive", and then she watched to make sure it was pulled from the top shelf and dusted off.)

She sits alone for half an hour. She made the effort to look nice—hair down; bright, hoopy earrings; lipstick, blush, and a hint of eyeshadow; the stretchy grey dress for blind dates, the one which shows she's thin without making it too clear she's bony—but not a single drunken conventioneer approached, so she must look the Ice Princess. She checks her expression in the mirror behind the bar; it's dim, but she can see the tightness around the eyes, the flat-lined lips.

This is not what Erica signed up for when she kissed Callie back in the parking lot six months ago. And Dr. Wyatt, well, psychiatrists don't veto their patients' plans. But she clearly communicated that she thinks this is a dumb idea, attempting a threesome for a woman Erica hadn't made any committments to.

Erica stands up, just about convinced that Dr. Wyatt is right, when she sees Callie in the doorway, looking for her. Callie is beautiful, wrapped in red and lush and warm-looking, and Erica might have been able to leave before she got there, but Erica can't walk away from Callie, can not do it. Doesn't really want to. So she walks toward her instead, puts out her hands and feels something unclench low in her abdomen when Callie grabs them right away and smiles.

"You're here," says Callie. "You're here." She pauses, a tiny check, then she leans down and kisses Erica, and Erica winds her arms around Callie's waist and just holds on.

"I'd say, 'Get a room,' ladies, but you already have one." Erica looks to her right and sees Sloan smirking at them, holding up a little white card.

She spins Callie between her and Sloan and says, "Let's go." She startles herself with the flat grimness in her voice, clears her throat, tries again. "I mean, after you, Sloan." That's better, more like she's about to start a double bypass and less like she's off to be boiled in oil.

He looks at her, and his expression is sympathetic? compassionate? not something she wants to see. "I think that, considering the evening's agenda, I'd like you to call me Mark."

"I'll do my best," she says. Callie squeezes her hand and starts walking to the elevator.

The ride up is silent. Erica watches the other two in the dully reflective walls. Callie looks pensive and excited, both. Mark looks down, head bent; she doesn't know what to make of that. She wonders what Callie said to him about this, uh, assignation in which they are about to engage.

## Then

Callie held a small purple case over the trashcan, but she didn't drop it, just stared.

"Honey?" Erica touched the small of Callie's back, naked between a cranberry t-shirt and a nicely fitting pair of jeans.

Callie looked up at Erica, and she looked drained, washed out. "I miss Mark," she said.

Erica rubbed her thumb on Callie's back, side to side to side. "You're still friends," she said slowly.

"I don't want to hurt you," said Callie.

Erica's thumb went still. "Is this about him? Or having a kid?"

"I don't want Mark Sloan's kid." Callie clacked the flat plastic case down on the bedstand. "He's the last person in the world I'd want a kid with."

Erica stepped back until her calves hit the bed and she sat. "Can I," she swallows, "can I do what he does for you?"

"It's not the fucking Sloan Method that's the issue, Erica." Callie sits down, too, next to Erica, but she doesn't reach out. She puts her head in her hands.

"If it's not the sex, then I don't understand." Erica talks slowly, clearly, as if Callie's from another country, like they don't speak English in the land of women, just Feeling Language and I statements.

"You don't really want me to tell you why I love Mark Sloan," said Callie. "Just, let's take it as read, and move from there."

"You love Mark Sloan?" Erica knew that Callie doesn't use that word lightly. She'd heard about George and taking things too fast and Izzie Stevens, whore of Seattle Grace.

Callie shrugged, but said, "Yes. But not more than I love you." She snapped her head up. "I love you, Erica. I'm not fucking around, I am in love with you."

"But you love Sloan," she said.

Callie shook her head. "_And_ I love Sloan."

"I don't know what to do," said Erica. "This was not in the Whole Lesbian Sex Book."

Callie's eyes widened and looked at her. "It totally was."

"What?" said Erica.

"There's a section on kinds of partnership right in the…." Callie laughed really hard. "You skipped. You skipped to the sexy parts."

Erica blushed. And then she reached across Callie's supine, giggling body, into the nightstand, and pulled out the book.

## Now

Erica wants to ask Sloan how often he's done this before. She does not want to pick a fight, she honestly wants to know that one of the three of them is experienced and knows how this will work. But she can't figure out how to say it so Callie doesn't get tense and anxious, so instead she sits on the bed and kicks off her shoes. That's not necessarily a seduction, but it does show she's going to stay. She's planning to stay, anyway.

Sloan pulls out the desk chair, a padded, brown leather, wheeled affair, and turns it around. He crosses his ankles and says, "Callie wasn't explicit about what you want, Erica."

Erica's jaw drops, because, "This is about what she wants, not me."

"Um," says Sloan, and he scratches at the back of his head the way he does sometimes when he's surprised and speechless.

"You said," says Callie from her stand by the doorway, as if she's the one about to call the whole thing off, "that you didn't want me to be with him alone. But I didn't know if," she shrugs, and waves between Erica and Sloan.

"But you don't," Erica starts to say, and then she stops. She remembers that Sloan flirted with her when she first came to Seattle Grace, but she'd thought that was just an autonomic manwhore reflex, nothing personal. "Do you want—Aren't you here for _her_?"

He shrugs, which she understands to mean _yes_, but he says, "I'm not a big fan of V's. It's," he wiggles his hand from side-to-side, "it's kind of awkward, being naked with someone you can't touch."

She blinks at him, again, because she cannot imagine any way in the world this whole situation is anything other than awkward.

"Also," he says, "I like you."

"No, you don't," she replies automatically. It's the look between him and Callie, the look she can't decipher, that prompts her to say, "What do you mean, you like me?"

## Then

Erica finished her wine and held her glass out for more.

Callie held the Shiraz up but didn't pour. "Are you drunk?"

"No, I am not," said Erica. "Although, the next glass might push me over the edge." She put her glass down on the coffee table.

Callie put the bottle down with a thunk and sat on the floor, head against Erica's knees. "So, Mark."

Erica scowled, counted to ten, and said in as neutral tone as she could manage, "What did he say?"

"Ah," said Callie. "He l—."

"Not about you!" Erica took a deep breath, squeezed Callie's shoulder. "I don't—." She swallowed, licked her lips. "Just tell me what he's agreed to." She laughed, a crackly, hoarse fakery. "I know why he loves you, okay?"

Callie sighed and reached back over her shoulder, twined her fingers with Erica's. "He agrees to whatever you want, so long as it doesn't involve cross-dressing or BDSM."

This was difficult enough, and Sloan had to go and make jokes about it. Or else he wasn't joking, which was even more upsetting. "I don't want to know how his mind works. Or what he thinks of me." She pulls at Callie's wrist, until the two of them are rearranged, stretched out on the couch together. "Does he want anything from me?"

"Neutral ground."

## Now

He shrugs. "You're pretty and mean and you're almost as good a surgeon as me." He opens his mouth, closes it, starts again. "If Callie weren't here, I'd still like to have sex with you." He shoots a look at Callie, and Erica can read that expression, one of his stock "love me, I'm an adorable manchild" faces.

"That doesn't make me _special_," she says automatically. Then she closes her eyes and says, "I didn't mean to say that."

Callie's hand touches her shoulder, startling her. Wasn't Callie by the doorway? Then Callie says, "You were sitting in the bar?"

"I'm not _drunk_," says Erica, "but I am clearly _relaxed_."

Mark stands up, shaking his head. "This isn't—." He walks over, puts his hand on Callie's shoulder. "This isn't going to work, at least not tonight."

He kisses her, and Erica watches Callie's body reorient towards him, chest making the quarter turn, eyes fluttering closed. She feels Callie's hand loosen on her shoulder until it's just the tips of Callie's fingers tracing Erica's skin. She's seen Callie open up like that before, but always for her. And Erica suddenly gets it, understands that despite the fact that he's a self-centered womanizing dick who abuses his residents and has a stupid specialty, Mark Sloan makes Callie happy. And Erica wants Callie to be happy, as much as humanly possible.

## Tomorrow

She will wake up alone, bra off and blind date dress on. The room will be bright, sheers will cover the windows but curtains will have been left open. There will be a suit jacket on the desk chair, and Callie's red dress will hang in the closet.

There will be a note on the desk reading, Hotel rest. Bkfst. Until 10. —M in blue, hotel pen ink. Underneath, it will say, I'll see you at your place tonight, if you don't make it to breakfast. —Callie

And Erica will smile, because her decision will still feel right.

## Now

She reaches up and grabs his wrist, tugs at it until he stops kissing Callie, until he looks down at her. "Hey," she says. "My name is Erica Hahn, and you appear to be dating my girlfriend. Maybe we should get to know each other better."


End file.
